Silver Shavings
by PSW
Summary: I too (like Questfan in her excellent 'The Squirrel's Stash') have been playing with the Pinecone prompts on Bonanza Brand, and will post them here as they are written. All are 500 words or less, based on a provided prompt.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Prompt: Before you accuse me, take a look at yourself. (Bo Diddley)**

* * *

"Joe?"

"Yeah, Hoss?"

"I feel… Ohhhhh."

"Yeah. You might've… had a little too much last night."

"I don't… what happened last night?"

"You don't remember?"

"Would I be askin' you if I did?"

"No. No, guess not."

"So…?"

"So, what?"

"Joseph…"

"Oh, what happened."

"Yeah. What happened?"

"Well… you was feelin' down over Bessie Sue takin' up with that Hargrove fella."

"Dadblamed Melvin Hargrove."

"Exactly."

"Right, but what does that have ta do with anything?"

"You needed a night out to forget it all."

"Don't remember thinkin' that."

"Well, you did. Need a night out, I mean. Not necessarily… think of it yourself."

"Joseph…"

"But you enjoyed yourself. I made sure of it."

"You did, did you? Then how come I feel so dadburned awful?"

"Well…"

"What did you do?"

"Now wait a minute! Before you… you accuse me, take a look at yourself!"

"Why do I think I got every right ta be accusin'—"

"Look! Look at yourself!"

"Well dadblame it, Joe, I… why can't… wait a minute. Where are we?"

"We're, uh… I'm not exactly sure. I think we're out back of the livery stable."

"What are we doin' out here?"

"We're, uh… we're layin' here."

"Joseph…"

"Yeah, Hoss?"

"Why are we layin' here?"

"Cause we can't go anywhere else."

"And why can't we… Wait. Why can't I move my feet?"

"Funny thing, right?"

"Are my… are my feet mortared into a wall?"

"Um… yeah. Mine too."

"Why are my feet mortared into a wall? Ohhhhh…"

"Mine too!"

"I don't care about your feet, Joseph! I wanna know why I'm layin' in an alley behind the livery stable at… what time is it, anyway?"

"Dunno. Almost morning?"

"At 'almost morning' with my head feelin' like a stage run over it and my feet in a wall!"

"It's not all my fault."

"Joseph…"

"You started the fight. I was just tryin' ta help you have a good time, is all."

"Don't you go all injured innocent on me, little brother."

"I'm just sayin'—"

"What happened? Ohhhh…"

"Shh! You don't want anybody ta see us here like this, do ya?"

"Well… naw, I guess not. But dang it, Joe—what happened?"

"See… there was some of them bricklayers from the new bank playin' poker in the Silver Dollar."

"And?"

"And… Melvin Hargrove was with 'em."

"Dadblamed Melvin Hargrove."

"Yeah. But, you had ta go over there and get loud."

"Dang right. I been datin' Bessie Sue for years…"

"And… things just kinda took off from there."

"Huh. Good fight?"

"Yeah. Real good fight. 'Cept… I guess we both went down, and when I woke up here we were with, uh… with our feet in a wall."

"Dadburned bricklayers."

"Yeah. Do you think you can get us outa here?"

"Mortar can't be set yet. One thing I don't understand, though."

"Yeah?"

"I ain't been this drunk in forever. Can't understand how that happened."

…..

"Joseph?"

"Well… I was tryin' to help you have a good time…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Prompt: All my lies are always wishes. (Wilco)**

* * *

Seems like I've been doin' nothing but telling lies since Marie came.

 _~.~.~.~_

 **'Boys, this is Marie—your new mother.'**

' **Welcome to the Ponderosa, ma'am.'**

 _I wish Pa never went to New Orleans. I wish I knew why me and Hoss aren't enough for him._

 _~.~.~.~_

I feel bad, because Pa's always put real stock in tellin' the truth. It's important for people to know they can trust you. A man's word has got to mean something, he says.

 _~.~.~.~_

' **No hunting trip this year, Adam. I don't want to leave Marie alone out here so soon.'**

' **Sure, Pa. I understand.'**

 _I wish Pa still wanted to be with just me sometimes. Pretty much anything we do now has got to be done with_ her _too._

 _~.~.~.~_

But… Pa don't seem to want the truth from me anymore. At least, if I try to tell him about how I feel, he says I need a new attitude.

 _~.~.~.~_

' **I'm gonna stay here and make cookies with Mama. Okay, Adam?'**

' **Sure, Buddy.'**

 _I wish my little brother still wanted to be with me. I miss him bringin' me frogs and lizards and laughin' about pretty much everything. It's awfully quiet without him._

 _~.~.~.~_

I don't know how to do that, though. How do I make myself _not_ feel how I feel?

 _~.~.~.~_

' **Oh, Adam! Not like that, my love! Wipe the table, then the chairs.'**

' **Sorry, ma'am.'**

 _I wish she'd remember I been doin' the housework since I was Hoss's age, and we've never yet died of crumbs on the chairs._

 _~.~.~.~_

Since I don't know how to make myself be happy again, I guess the only thing I _can_ do to obey Pa is to lie.

 _~.~.~.~_

' **Adam, you know what's expected of you.'**

' **Yes, Pa.'**

 _I wish I did. Hoss don't need me anymore—he's always with Miss Marie. Pa don't need me anymore—he spends his evenings with_ her _. The house don't need me anymore—she's got it so scrubbed up and shiny I barely even recognize it. I can't go get water or pick up kindling anymore without tellin' Marie first, even though before she came Hoss and I used to do that all the time while Pa was out working. If I wander off, she gets scared and scolds me, and then Pa yells too._

 _I wish I_ did _know what just what I'm supposed to do now._

 _~.~.~.~_

All my lies are always wishes, anyway—and wishes are okay, right?

 _~.~.~.~_

' **Adam, apologize to your mother right now.'**

' **She's not my mother!'**

' **Adam—'**

' **I always cook omelette's for Hoss's birthday breakfast!'**

' **Oh my love, I didn't—'**

' **Mama, I like the beignets! It's—'**

' **Adam, you have to accept that there will be new traditions with—'**

' **I hate her! Why did she have to come here?'**

 _I wish I did. I wish she_ was _the one I was so angry with._

 _Maybe that wouldn't hurt as much…_


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This little bit of randomness was written at about 11:40 last night … :-P

Prompt: Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run, there's still time to change the road you're on. (Led Zepplin)

 **~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

"Yes, there are two paths you can go by. But in the long run, there's still time to change the road you're on."

"What's the point of havin' two paths, then?"

Adam paused. "What do you mean, what's the point?"

"If ya can still switch paths after ya've been on the one for a while, they run pretty close together, right?"

"Well... yes."

Hoss nodded sagely. "And neither one gets ya there any faster?"

"Not really. Unless the stream is up- the lower path washes out sometimes."

"Then what's the point of havin' two paths?"

"Well... if the lower path washes out, you need to be able to switch to the upper."

"But why even have the lower at all?"

"It's closer to the stream."

"So?"

"If you need to fill canteens or water horses, you need to be down by the stream."

"So that's why you'd take the lower path."

"It's one reason, yes."

"But the stream crosses the upper a ways down the road."

"Yes..."

"So again, why even have that lower path?"

"We get rock slides up here, you know."

"Yeah?"

"The upper path is more likely to be blocked in the spring, after we haven't been through for a while."

"So, if it was blocked, then you'd want ta move down to the lower."

"Right."

"And leave the next person ta clear off the upper."

"Hoss..."

"Is that why I keep havin' ta clear this path every time I make a trip through? 'Cause you just switch on down to the lower and leave it for the next fella?"

"Hoss..."

"That's pretty low, Adam. I wouldn'ta thought it of ya."

"I don't... all right, I don't always stop to clear the upper path. But-"

"All's I'm sayin' is that it don't make sense for us ta upkeep two different paths out here. It ain't like we get out this way so all-fire much."

"Yes, but... we do still make this run three or four times a year."

"So we should have one path that we know is gonna get us where we need ta go, instead of two ya have ta keep switchin' back and forth on."

"All right. Where do you plan to build this new path?"

"Why are you askin' me? You're the engineer."

"But... I don't have a problem with the two path system."

"Ya should. It ain't efficient."

"Not... efficient. But, the existing paths already... exist."

"So?"

"If they're already doing the job, why build a new one? Even if you do have to switch back and forth sometimes?"

"Well, if you don't want ta be efficient..."

"Hoss, that makes no sense."

"What don't make sense is you switchin' back and forth when we could just have one."

"Hoss?"

"Yeah, Adam?"

"Go to sleep."

"But we ain't washed the dinner dishes yet."

"I don't care."

"Ya sure?"

"Absolutely."

"All right. If you say so."

"I do. Good night."

A yawn, a snicker, and a sigh of deep content. "Night, Adam."


	4. Chapter 4

**Prompt: Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose. (Kris Kristofferson)**

* * *

The knock interrupted another too-quiet evening. Ben professed to be reading, but for the last half-hour he had been staring over the top of his book into the crackling flames. Joe didn't even pretend. He sprawled on the settee, booted feet on the heavy table unchallenged, turning a single checker over and around in his fingers. Jamie huddled with his homework at Ben's desk, but his eyes drifted more often to the two silent men than to the open pages.

Hoss's death had sucked the life out of the Cartwright men as surely as it had the empty bedroom in the upstairs hall. "It will be all right," Ben had assured them numbly as the family finally left the grave site that awful day. "It won't be the same, it won't be... what we _wanted_. Not for him, not for us. But it will be all right." His new family had known their share of grief, and with his own father's death still so fresh, Jamie thought he understood. They hadn't reached that 'all right' point, though, and the unfamiliarity of who they were now was still painful and fresh. They didn't know how to converse around it, or through it... so they didn't. Not yet.

All three stared as the knock came again, and finally Joe rolled to his feet. He crossed to the door and ducked his head close. "Who is it?" It was late- dark and still for hours already. Whoever it was, was unexpected.

"Candy."

Ben rose swiftly as Joe yanked the door open. "Candy!" Jamie drifted from the desk, curious for a glimpse of the drifter-turned-foreman-turned-drifter. A tall, lanky man with a mane of thick hair and a wide smile stepped inside, engulfing first Joe and then Ben. The grin faded, and Candy gripped Joe's shoulder.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get here for the funeral."

"No, it's all right, Candy. It's good to see you." Ben motioned their guest toward the settee. "We thought of trying to contact you, but weren't sure where you were."

"Colorado, lately." Candy flashed another grin as Hop Sing brought coffee, dried apple pie, and a word of welcome, and closed his eyes with a sigh as he took that first long gulp. Ben and Joe sat nearby. Jamie drifted closer. "Durango. But I'm back to stay, if you need me."

For the first time, the newcomer seemed unsure.

Joe's grin was crooked, but the first Jamie had seen since Hoss. "What about your freedom?"

Candy shrugged. "Well... one thing I figured out since leaving you Cartwrights- freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose."

Even Ben smiled faintly, his eyes turned back toward the flames. Then he thumped Candy on the shoulder. "We're glad to have you. And..." He looked down. "Thank you for coming." Candy gripped Ben's wrist briefly, and as he did Ben glimpsed Jamie watching from the shadows. He motioned the boy forward.

"Jamie, come meet Candy Canaday- another member of the family."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I am playing with the idea of a WHN (maybe slightly WHI) for The Silence at Stillwater. This was written as a piece of a possible scene from that. For those of you not familiar with the episode, Candy is arrested for a murder he did not commit, held in the jail in secret (the sheriff wanted no 'outside interference' when the Cartwrights started looking for their missing friend), aggressively 'questioned' several times, implicated in the murder by the little boy who was the lone witness (an honest mistake), and was forced to attempt an escape in order to finally put an end to the situation. At the close, Candy looked definitely worse for the wear, and the sheriff offered a cheery apology (only at Ben's urging) which Candy was not quite ready to accept.

 **Prompt: She tried to peel me off the pavement, tried to insinuate sometimes I am in danger of going too far. (The Courteneers)**

* * *

"I didn't pay you for an opinion!" Candy twisted in Hoss's grip, flinging the words back over the batwings. "I gave you the price of a beer, and that's all I want!"

"C'mon, Candy."

Hoss tugged him out from under the awning into the street. Joe stuck his head through the swinging doors and caught Evie's eye. She was wiping beer off the floor, but sat back and raised one delicate eyebrow. "Sorry, Evie."

She snorted. "Take 'im home, Joe."

"Yeah." Joe nodded and started to turn away, but she called after him.

"Joe!" When he looked back, Evie grimaced unhappily. "He ain't doin' good."

"Yeah." Joe blew out a breath. "Thanks, Evie."

They knew. Boy, did they ever. Joe let the doors swing shut and joined the others. Candy pulled away from Hoss, stumbled to the hitching post, and attempted to unloop his reins.

He was wrapping them tighter. Hoss tugged the reins away, unwinding them, and Joe pulled Candy around. "What's your problem lately?"

"No problem." Candy laughed, flashing one of his wide grins. It was closer to the wild, edgy feel of the man in dusty black who had strolled into their camp asking for a horse and peaches than Joe had seen in a long time. "What makes you think I got a problem?"

"Candy." Joe tried to take his elbow, but Candy jerked away. "What're you doin'? Evie's a nice girl, she's always been a friend."

"Yeah," Hoss chimed in, tugging all three horses away from the post. "What were you thinkin', yellin' at her like that? That ain't no way ta treat a lady."

"She tried to peel me off the pavement!" Candy spat, stumbling back toward the Silver Dollar. Joe exchanged a baffled glance with his brother. Hoss just shrugged, shooing Joe forward. Joe grimaced, and obeyed.

"Candy… there ain't no pavement in—"

"She tried to _insinuate_ ," Candy slurred, stabbing a finger at Joe's chest and speaking as if to a child, "sometimes I'm in danger of going too far."

Watching his friend now, stumbling drunk and yelling at saloon girls to whom he'd never been anything but polite, Joe was forced to agree.

But why? It had to be Stillwater— _had_ to be—but Candy just wouldn't _say_ anything…

"Let's go home." Joe sighed and reached for their foreman's elbow. "We gotta talk about this. You can't just—"

"You Cartwrights like to talk, don't you?" White teeth flashed in the moonlight. " _Talk_. Pour out your souls. Cry on big Ben's shoulder." Candy pivoted, staggering toward his horse. "Not me."

"Candy—"

"And I ain't goin' _home_."

Joe and Hoss gaped at each other. "What?"

Candy dragged himself onto the horse. "I ain't goin' back. I'm headed out."

Hoss pushed forward. "Candy…"

"Sorry, boys. Tell your pa he can keep my last week's pay."

Candy tipped his hat, wheeled his horse, and bolted.


	6. Chapter 6

**Prompt: You don't know what you've got until it's gone. (Joanie Mitchell)**

* * *

"Pneumonia?" Hoss gaped. "You're joshin' me, right Doc?"

Paul sat back, wondering how this diagnosis could be a surprise. It had been obvious to him Hoss was ill the minute Paul had seen him outside the trading post. "I'm completely serious."

"But …" The boy frowned, and coughed. Admittedly, the severity wasn't what a non-medical person would normally associate with pneumonia, but Paul was confident in his diagnosis. "I been out workin', though—huntin' strays and mendin' fences. I wouldn't be able ta do that if—"

"It's a mild form." Paul moved to gather cough medicine and fever powders. "That doesn't mean you should actually be out _doing_ any of those things," he admonished, "but you won't be flat in bed."

Hoss was silent, though Paul suspected it was only a momentary reprieve. Sure enough, young Cartwright followed with another protest. "But where'd I get it? I ain't been wet or cold or—"

"There are types of pneumonia that can be passed from person to person."

A beat of silence. "Yeah?"

"Have you been around anyone sick lately? Even if it seemed like just a cold?"

Hoss frowned. "I guess … Frank was coughin' pretty good when I was bunkin' with him out in that line shack, helpin' check the herd numbers." He waved impatiently. "But that was last month!"

"These things can take a while to show up. How long have you been feeling bad?"

"Dunno. Coupla weeks? Hard ta tell, I ain't been …" His eyes slid away, and Hoss offered a shrug that didn't quite manage to be casual.

That was … interesting.

Paul switched directions. "I'm surprised your pa didn't notice anything."

Hoss snorted, relaxing. "Since Adam got home from college, they been spendin' every spare minute talkin' over all them 'improvements' Adam brought back—they're both so excited they can't even think about anything else."

Hmm. "Your pa's pretty happy Adam's back."

"Well, sure. We all are."

"Case of 'don't know what you've got until it's gone?'"

Hoss chuckled. "Oh, we knew. But Adam had ta go, and Pa knew that, too." He coughed. "Anyhow, Joe is so jealous he's about ta bust, and he's hangin' on Pa any chance he gets. And when they ain't with Pa, they're hammerin' on each other." Hoss sighed. "Gets tiresome. I think Pa's tryin' ta take up their time hisself, just ta keep 'em apart."

Uh huh. "All summer?"

"Yep. So, Pa ain't even had time ta look at me sideways." The grin turned wistful, and the boy's large shoulders slumped minutely. "He'll get back around ta me at some point, I reckon."

And there it was. Paul sighed. Hoss was generally so undemanding that it could be easy to forget he wasn't yet as self-sufficient as he seemed.

"I'll head home with you."

Ben Cartwright's boy had been walking around with pneumonia for two weeks, and Ben had been too distracted to notice. The man would be… unhappy.

This was not a conversation Paul particularly anticipated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Prompt: I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now. (Bob Dylan)**

* * *

"I'll see your two, and raise you… three."

Five smooth stones joined the pile on the battered coffee table, and a contemplative silence settled. The fire, the only light in the house, flickered against hair and eyes and the eclectic jumble of offerings heaped at their center. It was an odd time of day—of night? of morning?—for the undertaking, and an odd choice of entertainment for Ben Cartwright's home… but the man himself had only shaken his head in amused affection before climbing the stairs to his bed some hours past.

"I'll see your three." Adam, newly returned from nearly a decade in Australia, added several shells to the pile then settled back into the settee.

At the opposite end of the striped couch, Joe had three bullets ready to go. "I'm in."

"And I." Lina dropped three dried black beans into the mix and settled back, tugging her skirt down to cover her bare toes. After years of knocking boots and guns and bodies off of the heavy piece of furniture, Ben had succumbed to his new daughter-in-law's habit of sitting cross-legged on the coffee table with barely a protest. Joe's second wife had conquered very quickly and without effort a heart already disposed to love her.

"Call?" Jamie squeaked, and Joe recalled with sympathy his own long battle against adolescent voice changes. The boy was perched on the other corner of the table, having been quick to take advantage of Lina's work in that area. Grins began to spread. With a sigh and a low mutter, Jamie dropped a hand on the table which consisted of nothing more than…

"Eight high?" Joe's cackle rang out, quickly muted by a wave from Lina and a glance up the stairs. He smothered the volume, but not the laughter. "You _raised_ on that?" Jamie shrugged, flashing that goofy grin that was half proud, half heartbreakingly shy. "I remember a time you wouldn't have done anything of the kind."

Jamie paused in the act of attempting to steal a few rocks back from the pile. "Well… I was so much older then. I'm younger than that now."

It was meant to be flippant, but the words caught them all off-guard. Memories assailed—a rainmaker tarred and feathered by an angry town; long days on the trail and a vibrant woman cut down by an arrow, leaving a (semi) small, precious gift behind; too many losses one on top of another, aging a battered heart before its time; a father who seemed incapable of love and a late unlamented husband who most certainly was—and for a moment the crackle of the fire was the only sound.

Perhaps they _were_ younger now, having come through it all. They certainly felt it.

A loud pop startled them back to the present, and Joe shook his head, gathering the cards.

"Whose deal?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Prompt: If we weren't all crazy we would go insane. (Jimmy Buffett)**

"Roy!"

"Ben. Doc. Ain't seen you two in a while."

"Can't seem to get on top of the calls. I don't remember the last time life got this crazy."

"And I haven't been into town for… well, I'm not even sure, between the rustlers and the lumber contract and Joseph."

"Little Joe. Now, there's one adding to my list as well. Sit down, Roy, have a drink."

"Aw, I can't. I gotta get back to the jail before those kids in there kill each other."

"Thompson brothers again?"

"Yeah."

"Trust me, the most they'll do is a black eye or bloody nose. I've never even patched up a busted rib on any of the three—not from each other, at least."

"Well… you're probably right. I'll sit for a couple of minutes."

"Good, good. Sam! A beer for the sheriff!"

"How many times is that, anyway?"

"Recently? Too many. Every time I turn around, them boys are bustin' up a saloon or knockin' somebody over or horseracin' backwards down C street."

"Backwards?"

"Yep, this morning. Lou and the stagecoach almost killed each other. Thanks, Sam. Other two jumped in when the driver took exception. Got the whole lot of 'em locked up for disorderly conduct."

"Do I need to stop by?"

"Nah. Coupla bruises is all. I'd say it'd be a good lesson, but those boys don't seem ta learn. I tell ya, Ben, they make Little Joe at his worst look like an angel."

"Good grief, Roy, don't say that in front of Joseph."

"Especially not now. What part of 'stay _off_ the broken leg' doesn't Joe understand, Ben? Every time I come out, he's in the kitchen or the barn or—"

"I haven't had time to ride herd on him."

"The boy's nineteen—you shouldn't have to! I know he understands plain English."

"You also know Joseph."

"Only too well."

"Adam's been camped out with the lumberjacks trying to meet our contract deadline, and Hoss is off with half the hands looking for rustlers. I've been stretched thin with everything else. That leaves Joe to his own devices."

"Hop Sing—"

"Putty in Joseph's hands. One pout and the man melts."

"Well, I'll try to get out more often, but don't count on it. The Addison girl has croup and John Henderson's gout is acting up."

"You shouldn't _have_ to come out more often."

"And let's not forget Widow Blaire."

"Alice Blaire?"

"The same. Stop laughing, Roy."

"Sorry, Doc. But I—"

"See how gentle I am next time you get shot."

"What's wrong with Alice Blaire?"

"Bunions."

"And…?"

"Every evening about five thirty, she calls me out to look at them. Then she insists I stay for dinner… Roy! Now, Ben, don't you start!"

"You know, she's… quite a woman, Paul."

"Who thinks the way to a man's heart is through her bunions."

 _Howls of mirth. Even Paul chuckles wryly._

"Oh, gentlemen. If we weren't all crazy, we would go insane."

"I'll drink to that."


	9. Chapter 9

**Prompt: You're dangerous because you're honest, you're dangerous because you don't know what you want. (U2)**

* * *

Another day, another friend at the wrong end of his pistol. Some days he wondered what were the odds against this kind of thing happening over and over… but mostly, it just made him angry.

"It's not too late, Matt. You can still turn yourself in."

The bawling and milling of two dozen rustled steers in the draw behind Matt Sweeney drowned the bark of laughter. "Not much of an option, is it?"

"Better than this." Adam jerked his chin toward the Lincoln brothers, herding the first of the stolen cattle out the other end. "Better than lowering yourself to the likes of them."

"You don't know anything. We've been friends longer than you've been alive, boy."

"Things change. People too." He nudged the black closer, trying not to be obvious. "You know that. You just don't want to admit it."

"Stop!" Matt's eyes narrowed, and he nodded abruptly toward the ground. "Get down."

"No." His hand was steady, but inside he was shaking. With rage? Grief? The injustice of once again being forced to watch a good man self-destruct? Adam's voice betrayed none of his turmoil. "Matt, you don't want to do this."

"No, I don't!" The words cracked like a whip. "But you had ta come, didn't you? You had ta poke your nose in where it don't belong, and now I gotta clean up where I didn't want no mess ta begin with."

The horse was restive beneath him. "So what are you planning to do?"

"I don't _know_ , you sanctimonious bastard!"

From Matt Sweeney, it was practically a pet name—something along the lines of 'short shanks' or even 'granite-headed Yankee'. Maybe he was getting through.

Adam couldn't believe he was about to suggest this. "What if you just let me come along for a while?" If he only had a little more time…

"Uh-uh." The rifle trembled in his friend's hands. "Can't do it, Adam. You're dangerous because you're honest."

" _You're_ dangerous because you don't know what you want!" They were out before he even knew what he was going to say, but the words were as true as any he'd ever spoken.

Matt scowled. "Now that's rubbish. You and me, we both know—"

"Julie?"

"Always."

"Or this?" Adam flung the words toward the disappearing cattle. "Because you can't want both."

The words actually succeeded in startling the other man. "I want somethin' ta _give_ her, Adam. Somethin' more than a two-room cabin and a—"

"She'd throw it all in your face if she knew." Adam's jaw tightened. "You _know_ that. So if you're willing to risk it, you can't really want _her_. Maybe you just like the idea of—"

The rifle came up, and Adam's pistol with it. Only one was steady.

"You _bastard_ …" A whisper, but clearly audible above the din. Blue eyes strayed for a moment to the activity behind them.

Adam said a quick prayer, tightening his grip. "Come on, Matt. Don't make me do this."


	10. Chapter 10

**Prompt: You're walking a wire between pain and desire, and looking for love in between. (The Eagles)**

* * *

"You're… Aw, Adam, do I really gotta say it?"

"Yeah, Hoss, you really gotta."

"But how come?"

"Because I'm the director, and I say so."

"Ain't no fancy title gonna make me say such a plumb fool—"

"Because it's in the script."

"Dadburn it."

"Exactly. Ready?"

"No. But… dadburn it. You're… you're walkin' a… Well, it don't _have_ ta be in the script, do it?"

"What do you mean? It is. Already."

"Well yeah, but… don't we got liberty license, or some such?"

"Liberty… license?"

"Ya know! When ya change stuff cause ya need to for the story."

"Oh. _Literary_ license."

"That's it! Well, don't we?"

"I don't… think so. Not this time."

"How come?"

"Hoss, do you want to be the one to tell Abigail Jones—"

"Myers."

"Abigail _Myers_ , then…"

"Ya know she gets right aggravated if ya forget."

"That _is_ the truth…"

"I wouldn't figure it'd be so hard for you ta remember, seein' as how you were the one—"

"Oh, you needn't remind me. I remember it quite well."

"Ya better call her Abigail Myers, then."

"All right. Do you want to be the one to tell Abigail _Myers_ you took literary license with her script?"

"Aw, dad _blame_ it."

"I thought so. Come on, now. We're wasting time."

"You're… you're walkin' a line—"

"Wire."

"Line, wire. What's the difference?"

"One rhymes. The other—"

"Dang fool play."

"It's for charity, Hoss. Try to—"

"I know, and that's the _only_ reason I'm standin' up there and—"

"Hoss!"

"Fine. You're… you're walkin' a _wire_ between pain an' desire… But it sounds plumb ridiculous!"

"Hoss…"

"Well, why don't he just say, 'Joe, you an'—'"

"Stoddard."

"What?"

"He's Stoddard, not Joe."

"What kind of a dang fool name is—"

"It's _my_ name."

"Oh yeah." _Snicker_. "You don't _really_ suppose—"

"We've already had this conversation. I'm not having it again. Abigail J— _Myers_ did _not_ name her leading character after me."

"Iffn ya say so."

"I do."

"All right. Well, then why don't he just say, 'Stoddard, you and that little gal are no good for—"

"Because it's not in the _script!_ This _paper_ with—"

"Ya don't need ta get testy, Adam. If ya want me ta stick to the—"

"I do! Want you to! Thank you."

"All right, then. You're… you're walkin' a wire between pain an' desire, and lookin' for… Think she'll come by an' scold ya if I—"

" _What do_ you _think?"_

"Simmer down, older brother! Sheesh. I got it. Here, listen. You're walkin' a wire between pain an' desire, and lookin' for love in between. See?"

"Now, why was that so hard?"

"Ya seen Joe… I mean, _Stoddard's_ next line?"

 _Papers shuffle._

"Ohhh… Maybe I'll get attacked by Indians on the way home."

"Rustlers."

"A crazed madman looking for vengeance."

"Escaped prisoners."

" _Anything_ would be better than this…"


	11. Chapter 11

**Prompt: The world is full o' complainers, and the fact is, nothin' comes with a guarantee. (1984 movie "Blood Simple")**

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"It ain't fair!" Little Joe flung the rock out over the sparkling water. It was evidence of the boy's agitation that it didn't skip even once before plunging into the depths, but Hoss ignored that. He was agitated too.

"So?"

Joe's head whipped around. "What do you mean, _so?_ "

"You've been sayin' that for a week now." Hoss shrugged. "But, so what?"

Little Joe's eyes were startled and puzzled. "But..." He stepped forward, willing his big brother to understand. "But Hoss, it ain't ... it ain't _fair!_ "

"So ya said. A lot. And I agree. But what does 'fair' have ta do with anything, Joe? When has 'fair' _ever_ had anything to do with anything?"

"But ..."

"Life _ain't fair_ , Little Joe. Ain't no amount of wishin' is gonna make it that way."

The green eyes sparked. "But that ain't ..." His voice trailed off just in time. Dark brows dipped into a scowl. Hoss nodded.

"Fair? Nope." He stepped forward. "If life was fair, you and me wouldn't even be here, because Adam's ma wouldn'ta died ... and if she had, my mama sure wouldn't have - not after Pa had already lost Adam's. And your mama would still be alive, and Hop Sing wouldn't get rocks throwed at him in Eagle Station, and ole Missus Hannety would still recognize her kids, and Roy and Mary woulda had a baby of their own." Hoss leveled his own scowl across the short space. "Right?"

Little Joe kicked at the rocky ground. Hoss's irritation melted as wetness appeared in the boy's eyes. "Course you're right," he mumbled. "You're always right."

A surprised chuckle escaped. Hoss stepped forward, curving his hand around the mass of brown curls. "Now, that ain't even close ta true, short shanks. I'm pretty sure that ain't what you was sayin' last month, anyhow." A watery giggle escaped his little brother. Hoss pulled Joe's head against his shoulder. "But I'm right about this. Ain't no use complainin' about things not bein' fair. The world is full o' complainers, and the fact is, nothin' comes with a guarantee. People die too young." His hand tightened. "Dogs do, too, and I'm purely sorry about that, little brother. I know ya wanted a lot more years with him, and I know it hurts, and I wish I coulda done somethin' for him."

"Aw, Hoss." Joe sighed against him. "I know you couldn't. Nobody could."

"Well, you're probably right." Hoss stared out over the shimmering lake. How he wished it had been otherwise … "Ya got every right ta grieve, boy ... but all this talk about things not bein' fair has gotta stop. That's for people that cant' or don't wanna handle life, and Cartwrights ain't that, are we?"

Joe shook his head sharply. His voice was firm. "No."

"Good boy."

Little Joe sighed again, and Hoss felt another tear leak into his shirt. "But I miss him, Hoss."

"Yeah, punkin." Hoss held his little brother tight. "I know ya do."


	12. Chapter 12

**Prompt: Now I think I understand how the world can overcome a man. (Avenged Sevenfold)**

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"Roy! What are you doing out this way?"

"Afternoon, Ben. I'd love to say this is a social call, but it ain't."

"Oh? Well, what can I do for you?"

"Not a thing. But there was an incident outside town earlier. Remember those—"

"An incident?"

"Yeah, but don't worry, Ben. There's no—"

"Joseph!"

"What?"

"How is he, Roy? He's still recovering from that kidnapping last week, he doesn't need another—"

"Now, Ben. Just wait. I never said anything about—"

"Hop Sing just ordered a fresh supply of bandages and herbs. We should be good there. I don't—"

"Ben! Will you just stop for a second! Hoss—"

"Yes, Hoss. We'll need him to carry his brother upstairs when they get here. _Are_ they coming out here, or do I need to go in to Doc Martin's?"

"Ben, the doc didn't even hafta—"

"But ... Joe wasn't even supposed to be in town today. Are you sure—"

"Ben, I never _said_ anything about Joe. I—"

"Oh, _Adam_. My boy. I—"

"Adam's fine. You—"

"What was it this time? Another madman? Another friend turned against him? I worry for him, Roy. He's already restless, I worry this will—"

"You remember those two hands Hoss fired last month? Well, they—"

"He has job offers. Did you know that? In several cities. Any more problems like the ones he's—"

"Ben, focus! Those two—"

"It's _both_ of them? Not again ... Sometimes I don't think my heart can take it. I'll set up a cot in one of the rooms so Hoss and I don't have to—"

"... hands caught up with Hoss outside of town. They—"

"You're right. Hoss is always my right hand, in these situations."

"... tried to—"

"Roy, now I think I understand how the world can overcome a man. So much pain and fear, so many kidnappings and shootings. I don't see how—"

"... bushwack him, but they got too close and Hoss managed to get his hands on 'em. He—"

"... either of them are still sane, after all of it. Did you say I needed to go in to Doc Martin's? I'll get Buck saddled and—"

"No! Ben, you don't need to go anywhere. Hoss brought those two cowpunchers in, and I came out to have you sign a complaint about—"

"Doc's on his way out, then? Should I get the spare room ready, or—"

"Nobody's hurt, Ben! Nobody! Hoss bruised up his knuckles, is all. You got the brandy close by? Seems to me you—"

"Wait, Roy. _Nobody?_ "

"That's what I've been tryin' ta tell you! Ain't nobody hurt this time."

"But Roy, I—"

"Let's go get a drink, Ben, and I'll start from the beginning."

"Nobody's hurt."

"Nope. I—"

"Roy, wait. Did you ... I don't understand. Did you say they were after _Hoss?_ "


	13. Chapter 13

Prompt: Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away. (Paul McCartney)

 **~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

"Hey, little brother. Been lookin' for ya. Whatcha out here thinkin' about?"

"Yesterday."

"Ahh … Yeah. Yesterday. Well … coulda been worse, right?"

"Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away."

"Really? Cause, if I remember right, you been complainin' for weeks 'bout how Ellie was gettin' too clingy. You was wantin' space. Seems to me like your troubles are over."

"Over? No, not over. Right now, it looks as though they're here to stay."

"Wha … What? But yesterday … You know what? Just forget about yesterday. Why don't we just put it behind us like it never—"

"I _believe_ in yesterday!"

"You _believe_ in … Joe, what does that even mean?"

"Aw, Hoss. You wouldn't understand."

"I guess not, short shanks, 'cause I ain't got no idea what—"

"Suddenly I'm not half the man I used to be!"

"Cause of _Ellie?_ Joe, don't say things like—"

"Hoss, there's a shadow hangin' over me."

"Really? Joe, I thought … I didn't know, brother. After all you been sayin' 'bout wantin' room, I just—"

"No. Yesterday came so suddenly."

"Well … okay, then. Why'd she have to go?"

"I don't know. She wouldn't say."

"What about her ma? Will she tell ya anything?"

"Maybe I said something wrong."

"Wrong enough she left? I don't know, little brother. That seems kind of extreme, don't ya think?"

"I want her back, Hoss. I … I long for yesterday."

"Joe … you know that ain't gonna happen. She's off ta St. Louis now. She'll be all the way to Atlanta before you know it."

"Atlanta …"

"Look, short shanks … Why don't ya come inside, get dressed? We'll ride in to that dance, and you can find some purty gal to spark there. You'll see, it ain't so bad as—"

"Yesterday love was such an easy game to play!"

"You better not let Pa hear you talkin' bout love like that. Ya know he won't like it."

"Pa won't—"

"It ain't respectful, Joe. Them girls ain't just a game ya—"

"Hoss, I know that."

"You sure?"

"Course I'm sure! I was just … you know. Talkin'. Bein' eloquent."

"Eloquent, huh?"

"Poetic."

"Huh. Don't know so much about that."

"Just wishin' …"

"Ah now Joe, don't start that again. Let's just go! The dance'll already be started, we don't—"

"I don't wanna go to the dance."

"You don't wanna … You really _are_ feelin' bad, aren't you, little brother?"

"No dance. I don't want be out with people tonight. You understand, right Hoss?"

"I guess so. I—"

"I might head out to the lake instead. I feel like I need a place to hide away. I—"

"Joe, you ain't _never_ let any girl get ya … wait. Wait a second."

"What?"

"You ain't … You don't _miss_ her!"

"Hoss, what kind of thing is that to say? I just told you I—"

"You ain't pinin' for Ellie! This is all because _she_ broke up with _you_ , ain't it?"

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

*Joe's dialogue (much of it, anyway) courtesy of Paul McCartney. ;-)


	14. Chapter 14

**Prompt: Nothing but the dead and dying in my little town. (Paul Simon)**

* * *

"That's… impressive."

Little Joe scowled. "You ain't gotta sound so surprised."

Adam just grinned. "Come on, Joe. When was the last time you approached any kind of schoolwork with this level of gusto?"

Mitch wrinkled his nose. "What's gusto?"

"Aw, it ain't nothin'. Adam just likes ta use fancy words."

Since when had _gusto_ become a fancy word? _Two syllables. Not even hard syllables. And spelled exactly like it sounds._ Sometimes he wondered what Abigail Jones taught these kids. Sir Walter Raleigh aside, it seemed a few basic essentials were being overlooked.

"What I mean is, you aren't usually this excited about a school project."

Joe seemed mollified, though by the rephrasing ( _excited_ was three syllables) or by his interest in their project, Adam couldn't be sure. "Well, school projects ain't usually fun."

Eyeing the sprawling model of Virginia City spread across the back wall of the barn, built of a conglomeration of sticks, wood slivers, straw, a milking bucket Adam was almost sure Joe didn't have permission to appropriate, a whole bale of wire, and likely enough rock to pave the barn floor, he was forced to agree. It was the type of project guaranteed to capture the imagination of twelve-year-old boys.

Miss Jones wasn't usually so insightful.

"Well, show me around."

Mitch jumped into the center, just missing the roof of the miniature mercantile with his boot. Joe pointed out the wooden horses in the livery. "See Adam? It's my painted Indian ponies you sent me for Christmas."

Adam nodded, mind drifting back to his first year in Harvard. The simple act of carving, something he had learned from his father and which brought memories of home and family, had been lifesaving to a young man deep in the throes of homesickness.

"We got a jailhouse, too!" Mitch pointed out the wooden bars on a tiny back window. Again, Adam was impressed. These two had really gone all out. He followed their waving hands and overlapping voices, taking in the tiny saloons and the emporium. His attention was caught by a little piece of white cloth hanging out of a hotel window.

"What's that?"

Joe grinned. "Old man Kester's ghost. He died up in that hotel, remember?"

Annnnd, here it was. "Ghost?"

"It's Halloween!"

"Yeah. Nothin' but the dead and dyin' in our little town."

Adam looked again. For the first time, he noted other white cloths, toy soldiers in various attitudes of suffering, even a few streams of red running out the jailhouse door. He wondered what Joe had stolen from Hop Sing, and how much trouble the boy would be in.

"My, aren't you a morbid little devil?"

"Why do you gotta use them big words?"

 _Two syllables._ He ignored the complaint, his mind focusing on another problem. "It's big."

"She said it could be as big as we wanted!"

Adam lifted a slow eyebrow, reluctant and at the same time anticipating their response. "How are you going to get it to school?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Prompt: Every rose has its thorn just like every night has its dawn, just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song. (Poison)**

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"Hey fellas. Whatcha doin' up here?"

"Looking for you."

"Yeah, Hoss. You been out here alone long enough."

"I guess. Ain't doin' no good just sittin'. But…"

"Yes?"

"Dadgummit, fellas, I really thought she was the one."

"So did we all, little brother. So did we all."

"Sweet as honey, purty as a rose."

"Seemed like a nice girl, Hoss."

"Floated like a butterfly, but stung like a bee when she got riled."

"She would have been a fine addition to the Ponderosa, if ..."

"Yeah… Who'da thought?"

"No one could have guessed, brother."

"Not me, for sure. I mean ... how many sock puppets did they find in her room?"

"Forty-two."

"Forty-two sock puppets."

"Yeah."

"That was a narrow escape, brother."

"You don't gotta tell me! Three days, and we woulda been hitched! Can you imagine, all them puppets always starin' at a body? Gives me the willies."

"Did she really have one of each of us?"

"Had one of half the town. Yers even had a little left-hand gun, Joe."

"Well, that was good of her."

"She always did like you real well."

"Well…"

"But why, Hoss?"

"Why'd she like Joe? Well look at him, Adam. He's awful durn cute, ain't he?"

"Why the _sock puppets_ , Hoss?"

"Oh. Ya know… I don't rightly know. She never did say. But she apparently spent an awful lot o' time in there, talkin' to 'em and all."

"Gosh, Hoss."

"Yeah… I guess every rose has its thorn."

"Just like every night has its dawn, brother."

"Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song."

"Sure enough, Little Joe… sure enough."

"That reminds me, Adam. Jim Taylor's been here for almost two weeks now, and you ain't got his song assigned yet. How's he going to join in on the cattle drive?"

"I know, I know. We've had a lot going on, with the fire out at the mill and the flooded creek."

"And the sock puppet girl."

"Right. The sock puppet girl."

"You know, boys, I don't know why I thought this one would work out. Ain't none of 'em before."

"But we can't give up, brother. Surely one of us, someday…"

"Yeah. I know we gotta keep on. But it's just hard."

"Hoss… we're here for you, brother."

"We're _all_ here for each _other_ , Adam. I got your back too, ya know. Even after that thing with—"

" _Don't_ say it."

"Yeah. You're prob'ly right."

"I know I'm right."

"Fellas, can we get out of the hayloft now? I think Pa's startin' ta get antsy about chores."

"Yeah, and Hop Sing'll be mad if we're not in for dinner."

"You comin' back tomorrow, Hoss?"

"Don't know. Maybe. I tell ya though, boys, it's sure been a whole heap easier since we decided on the hayloft 'stead of some month long trek through the mountains or the woods after these things."

"Right! Who's got time for that?"

"Not us. It's a working ranch, you know."

" _Boys!_ "

"Climb faster, Hoss."


	16. Chapter 16

**Prompt: No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man behind blue eyes. (Peter Townsend of The Who)**

* * *

"Hoss! What's this?"

"Well, Roy, I done caught me a coupla shoplifters."

"Shoplifters?"

"Yeah, comin' out o' the—"

"Now wait just a minute! We was gonna—"

"—general store with a coupla knives and a whole passel o'—"

"Amos Tate! You _swore_ ta me you was goin' straight! Just last week, you said—"

"Sheriff, we didn't do it! I'm tellin' ya, we—"

"Who's _we?_ "

"Well… I don't rightly remember."

"You don't _remember?_ "

"Nope. I—"

"Hoss, you recognize the other one?"

"Naw. Wasn't anybody I knew."

"Well, wait here while I lock this one up. I'll come back for a description."

"Sheriff! It's my word against his, and I say we didn't do no such—"

"All right, Amos. Just get on in there."

"You gonna believe him over me?"

"Do I really gotta answer that? Hoss, you gotta description?"

"Well now… see, it happened pretty fast. Weren't much time ta get too many details."

"Can ya give me _anything?_ "

"Well…"

"We didn't _do_ it, Sheriff! He don't know because we didn't—"

"You was gonna mail yer payment in, was that it?"

"Guess he was about Adam's height."

"Why you always gotta believe the worst about me, Sheriff?"

"Too many reasons ta count, Amos. Adam's height, Hoss? That all?"

"Well…"

"No one knows what it's like ta be the bad man."

"Pipe down back there! And stop rattlin' them bars!"

"Ta be the sad man behind—"

"Blue eyes! He had blue eyes."

"So, Adam's height with blue eyes."

"Yeah."

"Well Hoss, that could be half the men in the Territory. Ain't you got _anything_ else?"

"Always bein' misunderstood …"

"He was… well Roy, I was too busy collarin' Amos here! I didn't have time ta be gettin' shirt sizes and such on the other."

"No one ever believin' a word I say."

" _Amos!_ Well Hoss… look, how long are you here?"

"Nother coupla hours. Joe wants ta get a drink, and ya know once he gets goin' it ain't gonna—"

" _I_ was gonna get a drink. Just sit there, mind my own—"

"Well, go on then. If you think of anything, stop back on your way out. If I'm not here, I'll be down talkin' ta Bert Tanner. Did _he_ see anything, at least?"

"Doubt it. He were in back with Mrs. Lincoln.

"He was in _back_ with—"

" _No!_ Dadburn it, Roy! Not _back_ back. Just in the back, lookin' at sugar and such."

"Sugar."

"Yeah, _sugar!_ Now you just hold on. I ain't gonna have that little gal thinkin' I been spreadin'—"

"Well Hoss, you just said—"

"See, Sheriff! Hoss can't be trusted! He can't even—"

"Amos, you either stay—"

"Hey Roy?"

"—outa this, or you tell me about your friend. I'm—"

"Roy?"

"—tired o' havin' you in here ever' other weekend for—"

"Roy!"

" _What,_ Hoss?"

"That guy out on the street just dropped a whole bunch o' pocketknives …"


	17. Chapter 17

Prompt: I never thought about love when I thought about home. (Bloodbuzz Ohio)

This is a follow-up for the episode 'Iron Butterfly'.

* * *

 _20-Dec_

 _It's been months, and even now I'm not convinced I have the right to be contacting you- not after everything that you and your family went through on my account. I think you should know, though, that things have been settled. The Senator (I don't want to even think his name again, much less see it on paper in my own handwriting) has agreed that he will not press charges against me for the death of his son, and I have agreed that certain details of his campaign and time in office will remain unavailable to the public eye. It's not a perfect arrangement, but I believe he will keep his end of the bargain. I want to assure you, Cartwright, that I haven't agreed to hide anything that might in the future be a cause of... shall we say, innocent collateral damage- and if the need arises I won't hesitate. Not now. The Senator wasn't happy with the things I withheld from our agreement, but I had quite enough else to put on the table that he couldn't afford to turn me down. Fortunately for me (and now for the taxpayers at large), our Senator's son was not a particularly discreet man._

 _Eric Hoss Cartwright. I've never met anyone like you. You might think that's just something people say - but if it is, I promise they're the truest words I've ever spoken. In fact, I'll say them again. I've never met anyone like you. And I watched you with your family (even when you were arguing with your brother- I bet you didn't know I heard that), and with your townsfolk and with people like that crazy old man who dragged me out to tend you, and I know it's not act. It's who you really are, and I wonder where you've been all my life._

 _You might argue that's just another thing people say, and it is- but that doesn't make it any less true. No one has ever treated me like you did- like I was somebody worth protecting. Worth respecting. Worth... well. You have to understand, Cartwright... that was never something I was taught to expect. Even when I was very little. I told you about my mother. She took care of me... but love? I never thought about love when I thought about home. What I learned there was how to survive. How to use people, how to use myself, how to let others use me in order to keep my head above water. I never... I've never known anything like what I saw in you, and those few days have changed me._

 _You destroyed Lola Fairmont, Cartwright. I'm scared to death of who I might find beneath her- but I'm not sorry._

 _All my love,_

 _Lila Fischer_

 _(PS- Bet you didn't know Lola Fairmont isn't even my real name. Well, you do now. I hope, if you ever think of me, you'll leave her in the past. I hope to.)_


	18. Chapter 18

**Prompt: Spoke a lot of words, I don't know if I spoke the truth. (Cage the Elephant)**

* * *

"Hey Pa."

"Hoss. Adam."

"How's Little Joe?"

"Oh, he'll be fine. You know your brother—he's resilient."

"He has to be. When your heart's broken every other week or so …"

"Adam! This is nothing to joke about. The pain your brother feels is very real."

"I know that, Pa. And look, I'm sorry. It's just …"

"Just _what?_ "

"Well now, Pa …"

" _Yes_ …?"

"I mean … ya gotta admit, this was fast even fer him."

"And strange."

" _Real_ strange."

"Boys! No matter what you think of Little Joe's choices, we are _all_ going to be there for your brother. I don't want to have to say it again."

"Aw, Pa. You know we will. That don't mean we don't got our own opinions, though."

"No. No, I suppose not."

"Where is he, by the way?"

"Joe? He's out for a ride. Said he needed some time by himself."

"Have you talked to him yet?"

"Yes, before he left."

"What did ya say?"

"Oh … I spoke a lot of words. I don't know if I spoke the _truth_ …"

"What … that that little gal was crazier than a bag of cats and he escaped by the skin of his teeth?"

"Well … yes. That _was_ one truth I avoided."

"Seriously, Pa. What was he _thinking_?"

"You know … I really have no idea. Tirza _was_ … something else, wasn't she?"

"That's puttin' it nice, Pa. _Real_ nice."


	19. Chapter 19

**Prompt: Whisky for my men, beer for my horses (by Scott Emerich/Toby Keith). Contains various other phrases from both the song and the episode throughout (as well as a few of my own making ;-).**

 **WHL vignette for the episode 'A Dime's Worth of Glory'.**

* * *

Their companionable silence was broken by the sound of the front door opening, followed by two sets of footfalls in the entryway. Ben exchanged a glance with his eldest son, sprawled out in the blue chair with a book of poetry. He hadn't expected Hoss and Joe back for hours yet—usually a night in town would keep them occupied well past any sane man's bedtime. Adam's expression didn't change, but his eyes flickered regretfully back to his book and Ben knew he was mourning the loss of his quiet evening before the fire.

Come to think of it, though, his two youngest weren't talking—which could mean nothing good. They couldn't possibly be trying to sneak in, not at this hour, so what … Ben froze, eyeing warily the two young men grinning at him from behind the settee.

Grinning at _both_ of them.

Oh, what now?

"There they are, Hoss. Ain't they somethin'?"

"Yep." His middle son's gap-tooth grin flashed. "Sure are. And here we never knew."

Across the room, Adam's expression said that he was preparing for flight.

"Boys, what's this all—"

"The intrepid Cartwrights, father and son."

"Couldn'ta told it by me, not in that there ordinary business garb."

Ben was already in his robe and Adam his stocking feet. The statement might have made no sense—except it did. Oh, it did. Adam mumbled inaudibly and slouched into his chair, book inching up to shelter him from the impending storm. Ben gaped.

How? He and Adam had been very careful not to talk about that blasted article at home. How had those two possibly found out?

Then again, what was he thinking? Tobias Finch had spread those newspapers all over that town, and apparently Chicago too, and who knew what other parts of creation. If there was even one copy left anywhere in Nevada, of course Hoss and Joe would find it.

"Was sure a good thing they was ridin' that ill-fated Virginia City stage, weren't it, Joe?"

"Well yeah! There'da been no daring decimation and capture otherwise."

"It wasn't like that," Adam muttered. Ben was surprised—it wasn't like Adam to waste his time.

"What I wanna know, is when we're gonna get ta see 'em in action closer ta home."

"Yeah! Actually, Hoss, I'm a little hurt. Here we are family, and didn't get first chance at the story." _Oh, help us._ "We coulda done it way better justice."

"Boys…"

"Fer sure. 'The Gusty Gumption an' Dashin' Ta-Do of Ben an' Adam Cartwright, Ranchers Extra-Ordinary an' Savored Saviors of the Sierra.'"

If there was more Ben missed it, distracted by Adam's silent repetition of the phrase 'savored saviors of the Sierra' into the lines of Emerson's 'Boston Hymn' before him. The interruption, Ben was certain, was seeming crueler by the moment.

Of course, the boys had been planning this the whole ride home. There was no stopping them now.

"Having bested yet another notorious threat to the safety of Virginia City's worthy citizens, the father and son duo tie up outside the Silver Dollar saloon. As the gun smoke settles, the town hoists the intrepid Cartwrights onto their shoulders, cheerin'—"

"Naw, Joe, singin'."

Adam's head began to disappear below the armrests.

"Right!" Ben was going to murder whoever had shown his sons that story, slowly, and enjoy himself tremendously. " _Singin'_ a victory tune." Joe's eyes flickered to the blue chair. "To the tune of 'Oh Susanna.'" Adam exhaled slowly. "Sam's got the drinks ready—he knows how this goes by now, such is the fame and adoration of Ben and Adam Cartwright in these parts—and they all raise up their glasses against evil forces."

Adam bolted for the stairs.

"Whisky for my men!"

"Beer for my horses!"

Ben wasn't far behind.


	20. Chapter 20

**Prompt: I cheated myself, like I knew I would. (from 'I'm No Good' by Amy Winehouse)**

* * *

"I almost came, when you asked me to the Ponderosa."

"Which time?"

"All of them."

He was growing frailer, less substantial, by the day.

For the first several months after Adam had arrived, taking up residence in Elizabeth's old room and charge of his grandfather's neglected business affairs, Abel had been fairly stable—no visible change over the day to day. Over the course of the last two, however, his health had been in steady decline, and for a week now the changes had been rapid. The doctor still insisted that the old man might have months left in him, but Adam knew in his heart and his gut that wasn't the case. He thought Abel knew it too. He was grateful that he had chosen to come when he had, rather than wait for the day his grandfather had truly needed him. It had been good to have those weeks together before age and illness combined had started to truly take his grandfather.

"Why didn't you?"

A minute shrug, and a faint, wry chuckle. "Something always seemed more pressing here. I had my clubs and my business. My house. My investments. There, I would have been just your grandfather, just Ben's old crochety father-in-law."

"You wouldn't have been just—"

"Oh, I know it now. I knew it then, too, but I'm a stubborn old man."

Adam's rich laughter filled the little room. "Pa says I get it from your side."

Abel offered a wheezing snort. "That's the pot calling the kettle if I've ever heard it." The older man fell silent, but for the faintly labored breathing, then continued. "Whenever I thought of going, I just couldn't imagine leaving it all. It seemed … so important, at the time." He shook his head. "Of course, I couldn't imagine never seeing you again either. I would decide that it was time to take you and your father up on that extra room you kept offering … but just when I was ready to write you, just when I went to pick up a pen, something always happened to make me change my mind." The thin hand patted Adam's knee. "I planned to sit down at some point, look at the pros and cons, make a decision." Abel took a long, deep breath. "But I knew the longer I put it off, the less likely it was to happen, and in the end …" He closed his eyes briefly, and for a moment Adam thought he had drifted off. "In the end," his grandfather finally sighed heavily, "I cheated myself, like I knew I would."

He took the trembling fingers in his own. "I'm here now, Grandfather."

"You are." Abel squeezed Adam's hand. "You are. You're a good grandson."

The dimples appeared briefly in response and Adam sat back, settling Abel's hand into his lap. _Paradise Lost_ sat forgotten on the bedside table for a time, as his grandfather slept and Adam remembered.


	21. Chapter 21

**Prompt: You shouldn't mess with me. I'll ruin everything you are. (David Bowie, Iggy Pop)**

* * *

"You shouldn't mess with me."

"Oh yeah? Why not?"

"I'll ruin everything you are."

"And what exactly am I?"

"Respected. Responsible. The son of the great Ben Cartwright."

"I'll be Ben Cartwright's son whether anybody sees us together or not. Nothing you can do to ruin that."

"People look up to you. If you waste your time with me ..."

"The girl I remember would never—"

" _Look_ at me! The girl you remember is gone!"

"I _am_ looking at you, and whatever you seem to think, _I_ don't see a waste of time."

"Our school days are over, Cartwright. You don't know anything about me anymore! You don't know what I've—"

"Been through?"

"Done."

 _Sigh._ "Cathy ... what happened?"

"I just ... Tom was no good for me. You ... you knew he wouldn't be, didn't you?"

"I guessed. But I hoped I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be, it's not your fault. But ... things were bad. I did things to ... to survive, and I don't deserve anything better anymore than—"

"Not true. _Whatever_ you did, whatever you had to do, you will always deserve better than _this_. You've got other choices."

"No. Nobody will ..."

"Cathy. Come on, darlin'. We were friends once. Do this for me, if not for yourself. Get yourself out of this place and let me help you."

"People will see ..."

"I don't care. Your life's more important than my reputation. Besides, people will find something new to talk about eventually."

"I don't ... how can you say that? Nobody's said anything like that to me for a ... a really long time."

"Doesn't make it any less true."

"You know what, Cartwright? I guess one thing hasn't changed. I really have never met anybody else quite like you."

"I don't know about that. But I _do_ know, darlin', that you couldn't ruin me even if you tried. Who I am has never been based on what they think. Now come on. Let's get you out of here."


	22. Chapter 22

**Prompt: Many are the hearts that are weary tonight. (Walter Kittredge)**

* * *

"Pa?"

"Yes, Adam?"

"What are ya doin' out here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, son?"

"Well ... I know what you're doin', I guess. But why? We don't know these people, and we ain't stayin' here. Are we?"

"No, we're not."

"Then why? Specially when nobody's out here helpin' ya. It's _their_ town."

Ben Cartwright stepped back from his work, letting the shovel fall gently to the ground and wiping an arm across his sweat-streaked brow. He took the canteen held up by his young son with a murmur of thanks and drank deeply, letting his tired gaze drift over the neat line of graves. He'd been at it for several hours now, but this was nearly the last - only two more to go. It was hard to imagine what this number lost would mean to a town so small.

"You saw me talking to the sheriff when we drove in. I asked what I could do to help, and he asked if I'd be willing to dig a few graves. Get them a start before tomorrow." The moon was full and bright tonight, the long dark holes stark against the bright ground. "I told him I'd get them all - it's the least I can do for the families."

"But Pa ..." Adam, too, studied the long row and the night sky. "We got goin' this mornin' before the sun came up. Ain't you tired?"

Ben sighed, then wrapped an arm around the child's shoulder and pulled him close. "I am tired, son. I could sleep for a week. But look up there." He nodded back toward the little town, where lights flickered in a number of windows despite the late hour. "Many are the hearts that are weary tonight, and a weary heart can drag a person down in a way that a weary body just can't. This isn't our town, and these aren't our people, but they need the rest far more than we do right now." He raised one dark brow at Adam. "It's never a bad thing to offer that for others where you can, son, and looking out for those opportunities is part of being a man. Do you understand?"

The small brow furrowed, and after a moment the dark head nodded. "I think so, Pa."

"Good." Ben patted the boy's back. "You want to help me with the last few?"

Adam nodded, and reached for the shovel.


	23. Chapter 23

**Prompt: Silence means security, silence means approval. (R.E.M.)**

* * *

Hey Joe?"

He had a hammer in one hand, one end of a fence rail in the other, and nowhere to go with his mouthful of nails. Joe shifted them carefully to one side and mumbled, "Yeah?"

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Can it _wait_?" Joe snatched one of the nails and drove it at an angle into the wood.

Jamie shrugged. "Sure, don't worry about it. Ain't no big deal."

"Hang on!"

The boy seized the opposite end of the rail, which had slipped during his question. "Sorry."

"Hold it steady."

"I said sorry!"

Joe finished securing the rail. Then he dropped the hammer, snagged the canteen, and turned to Jamie, who stood clutching the rail and staring at the ground. When the boy didn't continue, Joe stepped closer and nudged with his boot tip. "Well?"

Surprise flickered across Jamie's face, but Joe didn't have time to wonder why before the kid shifted and glanced away. "Well, there's this… kid at school, and he's got this problem he ain't sure what to do about."

He'd used that routine on Pa too many times. "Kid at school?"

"That's what I said, ain't it?"

Joe was startled by the forceful reply. The Ponderosa's newest resident was a touchy one, and he wasn't always quite sure what he had done to set the boy off. Maybe once they got to know each other better… but in the meantime, Joe found it was usually better to ignore than engage that tone. "Okay. So, what's the problem?"

"Well… he heard somethin' he wishes he hadn't, and he should prob'ly tell somebody, but …" Jamie's chin came up defiantly, eyes still fixed on some distant point. "Well, things ain't so great there anyway, and if he does tell it'll prob'ly just get worse." His jaw tightened. "And ain't nobody gettin' hurt, anyway."

The 'but' hung between them, silent until Joe voiced it. The thin shoulders slumped.

"But he still feels like maybe he should. Tell somebody, I mean."

Joe reached for Jamie's chin, drawing it around. "Jamie, are you in trouble?" The kid pulled away, and Joe sighed. Was this what it had been like for his pa all those years? "You know, Pa told me when I was about your age that there comes a time in every man's life when he has to decide whether he's gonna be somebody who lives easy or who lives right." He felt Jamie's eyes on him now, and knew a moment of panic. Who was _he_ to be offering life lessons to a fourteen-year-old? "In this case maybe your friend's silence means security… but in some ways that silence also means approval. And he's gotta decide if he's okay with that." Joe pinned the boy with his gaze. "Understand?"

A dozen emotions flickered across that thin face, then Jamie nodded. "Yeah. I'll… tell him."

Sure.

Joe hesitated, then turned slowly back to his task, unease gnawing at him in the bright morning light.


	24. Chapter 24

**Prompt: You think you know me well, but you don't know me. ~~Cindy Walker/Eddy Arnold**

* * *

"Will!"

Joe didn't pay any attention. They were in the Middle of Nowhere, New Mexico, after all. Other than his brothers, who were soaking in baths across the way (he didn't understand them- washing the outside went way better after washing the inside), he didn't know anybody within several hundred miles. And anyway, his name wasn't Will.

"Hey Will!"

A small body jostled his arm as he took a drink, and he barely avoided a cascade of beer down his shirtfront. Joe spun, ready for a good fight, but found himself nose to nose with an earnest face and wide eyes. Belatedly, he realized that this must be the kid that matched that voice. He lifted an eyebrow.

"Me? You think you know me, kid?"

"When did you get get back?" The kid flung himself at Joe, who caught him with a startled 'oomph'.

"You think you know me _well_..."

"Are you gonna stay?"

"Okay." Joe disentangled himself, setting the kid down. "I hate to break this to you, kid, but you don't know me."

The kid stared, then started laughing. "Come on, Will." He thumped Joe's elbow, nearly sloshing the rest of the drink out. Carefully, Joe set his beer on the bar.

"My name's Joe." The kid's eyebrows started to furrow, and he added hastily, "What's yours?"

"Mark!" A new voice called from the door of the saloon, and the tallest man Joe had ever laid eyes on (taller even than Hoss, maybe) strode across the room. He was holding a rifle with a trigger modification Joe had never seen before, and Joe edged a little farther away from the kid. "What are you doing in here?"

"Well Pa, I thought I saw Will..." The kid (Mark) trailed off, motioning to Joe. He did seem genuinely confused. "But he says he ain't, and that I don't know him."

The man turned a sharp gaze on Joe, who scrambled to his feet. This, he felt instinctively, was not a man to be taken lightly. "Sir, I think your son's confused. My name ain't Will, it's Joe Cartwright. I'm in town with my brothers, we've been down to Mexico lookin' at cattle… but we ain't ever been here before."

The deep-set eyes surveyed him briefly, and Joe was relieved when he set the rifle aside. "Well, you do bear an uncanny resemblance to a friend of ours." The man quirked a half-smile down at his boy. "Mark, I don't think this is Will."

"Oh..." Mark shook his head at Joe. "Sorry, Mr. Cartwright. But you sure do look like Will."

"Well... I guess everybody's got somebody out there." Joe eased back onto the stool, relieved. He liked a fight as much as anybody, but he had a feeling Mark's pa would be a challenge.

The man placed an easy hand on Mark's head. "Seems that way. I've met my own, and he wasn't much to brag on." He offered Joe his free hand. "Lucas McCain."

~.~.~.~.~

 **A/N: This is a crossover with The Rifleman, inspired by an early episode in which Michael Landon guest starred. :-)**


	25. Chapter 25

**Prompt: Oh Joe, Little Joe, give it a rest. We all know Pa likes you the best. - Bob Lee, Phil Visher, Kurt Heinecke. (This has been expanded a bit for the Halloween Challenge on Bonanza Brand - Happy Halloween!).**

* * *

The forest was black, lit in patches by the watery moonlight. The trail flew beneath his horse's hooves, dark before them and behind, the pinto's pace impossibly smooth and fast for the circumstances.

 _Pa is dead. Pa is gone._

The words drummed inside him, keeping cadence with the even—so even—hoofbeats.

 _Pa is dead. Pa is gone._

He was unprepared when Cochise dug his hooves in. Keeping his seat was impossible, but his arching flight over the black and white head was … graceful. Slow. He barely felt the landing, though it did seem like the ground was farther away than it should have been.

A clot of dirt hit him in the face.

Joe looked around, catching his bearings and his breath. He was in a rectangular section of dug out earth, sides smooth, corners perfect, walls about six feet high.

Six feet deep …

A trickle of dirt fell onto his shoulders.

He looked to the left, and found himself face to face with his pa. _Oh, Pa._ Ben looked so peaceful in death. Asleep. His arms were folded across his chest, hat tucked into his hands, hair arranged just so. His good white shirt glowed almost blue in the pale light, the string tie a dark slash down his chest.

 _Pa is dead. Pa is gone._

More dirt showered down from above.

He looked up and saw them. Their faces were clear, sharp—though they should have been in shadow, backlit by the moon.

"Help me!" Joe reached out to them. Adam lifted a shovel and shook down another cascade of soil. "Wait! What are you doing?" He looked to Hoss. "Hoss?" His big brother's scoop was larger—a snow shovel to Adam's spade—and the damp, heavy dirt covered his hips. "Help me!"

"Sorry, brother." Hoss shook his head sadly. "Can't do it."

"Why not?"

"A piece of us will be buried with him." Adam's voice was calm, patient—like he was explaining a tough math problem or why he'd assigned the hands the way he had. "We'll never be the same."

"But why me? Why am I that piece?"

His brothers exchanged a long glance, then both tossed in another shovelful of dirt. Joe frantically brushed it from his hair. Above him three more men appeared, nebulous and faceless in the weird, shifting light.

"There! There they are!"

More dirt.

"They killed Pa! We found 'em!"

His legs were covered now.

"Let me outa here! Grab 'em, we found 'em!"

"Oh, Joe." Adam sighed.

"Little Joe," Hoss added.

"Give it a rest."

"A rest. Give it a rest, Little Joe," the unknown faces jeered.

"If it makes you feel any better, little brother, we all know Pa liked you the best."

"The best," Pa's killers echoed. The moonlight filtered around and through their faceless forms.

Adam cocked his head curiously toward Hoss. "You really think so?" More dirt across his shoulders.

"Naw. But maybe it'll calm him down. He sure is puttin' up a fuss."

Joe kicked frantically, freeing his legs from the ever-growing pile. "Let me out! There they are, don't you see 'em?"

"We'll get to them later, Joe." Hoss's voice was soothing. Kind. "We gotta finish up here."

"No! Let me out."

He started to surge to his feet, but a pair of strong arms wrapped around him from beneath, holding him close. Tight. "Stay with me, Little Joe. You didn't stay last time, and look what happened."

He screamed, and kicked …

And woke. The light from his low fire flickered. An owl hooted. Cochise snorted drowsily. Joe ran a trembling hand across his sweat-soaked face.

He'd slept longer than he planned. Pa's killers were still out there, and he was getting behind.

Joe rolled to his feet and broke his meager camp.

~.~.~.~.~

 **A/N: A missing scene for 'The Legacy' (in which the boys think Ben has been murdered, and head off in different directions with plans to kill those responsible).**


End file.
